


Holiday Interlude

by Zappy



Series: Crimson Spade [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 17:12:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7692766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zappy/pseuds/Zappy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A winter storm casts Gotham in a white wonderland, slowing crime down...for the moment. It is the start of Year Two for Gotham's heroes, so how do they spend the holidays?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holiday Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to write a holiday themed part for CS and this ended up being much longer than anticipated… which is so okay because I love every word of it. This takes place after both Hood & Bats know each other’s secret identities, so don’t be surprised. Also- I wanted to include/allude that Hood is connected to some of the villains. Riddler is the main one, but he has a soft spot for Mr. Freeze and Poison Ivy. This version is edited a bit more than the posting on tumblr, as I've since changed part of the backstory revealed for him here.

Earth 696 – Gotham City

                “What do you mean you don’t have plans?”

                Batman turned his head slightly to bring Red Hood into his vision. His mouth remained firmly shut and a grim expression, more than usual, took place on his face. If Red Hood didn’t know any better, he’d think that he’d stepped on a nerve.

                When the man spoke his words were clipped and his tone as cold as the soft snow falling around them. “I don’t really feel the holiday spirit. I have work to do. I’ll be out here, just like any other night.” He then turned back to look over the cityscape from his position kneeling atop one of the winged gargoyles of Wayne Tower.

                Hood crossed his arms and tilted his head in thought. He let out a hum and then sighed. This wouldn’t do at all. If anyone deserved a happy holidays it was Bats. “You know Victor celebrates the chilly holidays. He doesn’t make a peep the whole second half of the month. Pam grows trees in the park for less wealthy people to decorate, though no one is allowed to cut them down of course. I’ve heard that Eddie even helps out at the Santa Exchange for the kiddies at the mall.” He kept his voice casual, like these things were no big deal. Like it weren’t three of their more notorious criminals acting like decent human beings.

                Batman didn’t seem to think it was no big deal. His head whipped around to face him as he practically growled. “How would you know that? The both of them have outstanding warrants for their arrest, if you see them you’re supposed to give them to the police to send to Arkham or Blackgate!” His eyes narrowed and he seemed to draw in on himself. “And why do you insist on not using their code names?”

                Red Hood shrugged his question off for a moment. He thought about his tendency to not use their code names when talking about them. It didn’t feel right to not call them their birth names when they weren’t in battle with them. Just because they caused havoc and broke the law didn’t mean they weren’t people. It was a completely reasonable thing to do, he wasn’t being weird.

                _Face it Hoody, those so called villains resonate with you more than **regular** people do. Aside from Bats, they’re the closest to friends you have._

                His fists clenched around the sleeves of his coat trying to fight to ignore the voice. He forgot he’d been asked a question, and didn’t remember until Bats stood up to face him. Hood had to look up from his sitting position on the ledge of the building to keep Batman’s face in his vision.

                He hurried to finally answer, “I-I’ve seen them without my suit. Couldn’t exactly get changed in a hurry and well- it’s the holidays. They aren’t causing trouble so… no crime to send them to prison for. I mean, Eddie practically sets all his schemes up for failure as long as we can get the riddle right quick enough-”

                Bats suddenly turned his back to him and was silent for so long that Hood wondered if he’d said something wrong. After hearing a sigh and seeing Batman’s head lower Hood got really worried. He had to strain his ears to hear Batman’s words above the noise of the traffic below.

                “How do you do it?”

                Feeling the weight of the situation, Hood also kept his voice soft when he answered. “Do what?”

                “See the good in the people we go against. Sometimes… I struggle to still think of them as human.” The Dark Knight looked up into the gray cloudy sky of Gotham’s winter. Red Hood followed his gaze and marveled at the sight of the slow snowflakes falling down. It almost looked like the air itself were dancing, and it took his breath away.

                “I don’t know. Maybe… maybe it’s because I can see myself going down that road. And not being able to come back.” Hood didn’t know why he was talking, and his throat closed as the reality of what he just said hit him. He’d been trying to ignore the fact he fought the voice in his head every day. He wondered briefly what would happen if he lost for even a moment and it chilled him more than the cold air did. Pushing the grim possibility aside he almost missed Bats’ final words before the man leaped off the building and into the night.

                “Come by for Christmas. I’m sure Alfred would love to see you for the holidays. We’ll have plenty of food anyway.”

~~

                His fingers were twitching on the wheel of the car as he drove up the long road leading to Wayne Manor. He kept glancing at the wrapped box sitting in the passenger seat and wondering if he was making a mistake. When Bats had asked him to stop by for Christmas, he wasn’t sure if he meant Christmas _Eve_ or Christmas _Day_.

                “Well, better to be early than late right?” He asked himself and tried to swallow his nerves down. The worst case scenario would be him being wrong and he could just twist it to saying he was only dropping off the present. Then he’d only have to drive all the way back to the city with his metaphorical tail between his legs in embarrassment and maybe try drowning himself in alcohol. Who knows, maybe he'd be able to get drunk this time.

                Oh god he hoped he wasn’t wrong. Especially given the fact that the soft falling snow from a week before had turned into a practical blizzard and driving was a bitch. Even more so when your car had a broken heater. He sighed and resigned himself to losing feeling in his sharp nose. At least since The Incident he didn’t _feel_ much anymore, temperature-wise anyway.

                As he pulled his red ford Taurus up the final turn the head lights illuminated the enormity of the manor despite the storm. He let out a low whistle as his eyes scanned from one corner to the other. Still in awe as he cautiously made his way up the icy steps to the front doors he absently knocked on the thick wood. His gaze was straining upward to see the architecture as the doors opened and he quickly looked back down to see the aged face of Alfred Pennyworth.

                The butler gave him a soft smile and moved aside to usher him in. “Mister Jack, how lovely to see you this evening. Though, tonight of all nights?” His tone politely asked what Hood knew Alfred would not word. Didn’t he have his own holiday plans?

                _Like anyone would happily spend a holiday with you, let alone **Christmas**._

                Alfred seems happy to, he angrily told the voice. He didn’t let his pleasant expression slip from his face even as he internally fumed at himself. Anxiously smoothing back his eternally green hair he gave the man a small smile even though it stung a bit. “Oh, well. Don’t have much of a social life, what with my line of work you know? Anyway, I came to … drop this gift off for Ba-Bruce. Is he here?”

                “Master Bruce is around… eh somewhere. Would you like a hot cup of coffee or tea while you wait for him?” Alfred asked as he led him deeper into the manor, presumably towards the kitchen.

                “Oh I couldn’t be a bother-“

                “Nonsense. It’s no trouble at all. There is a veritable storm out there Mister Jack, might as well wait it out someplace _warm_ and _dry_ , yes?” Alfred looked at him with a small smile and he knew he couldn’t refuse. So he didn’t even try, though he did let out a small huff and smirk.

                “Alright, but a hot chocolate please. Not really a tea or coffee person. Caffeine tends to… screw with me.” He sat down on one of the stools by the bar top on one side of the kitchen and put the present for Bruce to the side. Folding his arms across the counter he set his chin on them and watched contently as Alfred went about the kitchen making the requested hot chocolate.

                As he waited, he idly rubbed a thumb across his scarred cheek. He’d put on a lot of pigmentation make up so the worst of the chemical scars were hidden, but he couldn’t stop from feeling itchy whenever he wore it. He wondered if he was allergic to the brand or if it was something else. A large mug being placed in front of his face brought him out of his musings. His green eyes flicked up to look at Alfred’s kind face.

                “One hot cup of hot chocolate, sir. Please tell me if I made it to your satisfaction, I’m afraid I haven’t made one since… well it’s been quite a few years.” The butler’s expression was one of intense sorrow and nostalgia. It broke his heart to look at, so he distracted himself by bringing the mug to his lips.

                He hid a wince as the beverage was too hot to drink and he knew it burnt his tongue and maybe his throat a little. Regardless he swallowed the mouthful and held in his pain. Worse things had happened to his throat, a little burn would do no lasting harm. He gave Alfred a dazzled smile as he warmly replied, “it tastes wonderful Alfred. Better than my mother used to make.” It wasn’t a complete lie as it was quite possible that it was better than his mother's, he'd no way of knowing for sure, but no need to tell the butler that.

                Nodding Alfred turned back to clean up the mess he’d made in preparing the hot chocolate, and as he did they heard a set of footsteps from the direction of the stairs out in the hallway. Jack turned to look as Bruce stepped into the kitchen. He paused once he saw Jack sitting there and seemed to blink in surprise so he had a feeling that Bats had meant Christmas _Day_ after all. Oops. Giving the billionaire a sheepish smile he raised his mug of cocoa in greeting.

                “Evenin’ Brucie. Sorry to intrude…”

                Bruce glanced at Alfred as he opened his mouth to reply and seemed to have a silent conversation with the elderly butler. When he returned his look to Jack he slowly spoke. “No, no it’s… not an intrusion. I did invite you after all.”

                _You hear the hesitance in his voice? They don’t **really** want you here Hoody, they just **pity you**._

                He swallowed thickly at the words and masked it by taking another large and unwise gulp of the still burning hot chocolate. The pain radiating down his throat shut up the horrible voice in his head and he needed that. The damage was done however and he felt horrible. Not able to look at either of his hosts he stood from the stool. Motioning to the gift he’d brought without looking at it he started talking without thinking.

                “I ah- brought you a gift. Thought… thought it’d be better to have before Christmas Day is all. Again sorry about barging in and s-stuff, I’ll just get out of your hair. Things to do, apartment to clean, holiday movies to watch yadda yadda. So I should just-” he cut himself off as he ran a hand through his hair, thoroughly messing it up. His eyes had glanced up quickly to see the expression (or possible lack thereof) on Bruce’s face. It was a mistake that made him freeze.

                Apparently Bruce had stopped listening at “gift” because the man’s ocean blue gaze was locked on the wrapped parcel. Jack could tell he’d heard nothing after as the man’s face was in such surprise that he didn’t think anything he said at the moment would bring him out of it. It broke his heart because he started wondering if anyone other than Alfred had gotten the man a proper Christmas gift since he was 8. He was sure he never wanted to know the answer.

                “You… got me a gift?”

                Jack swallowed the lump in his throat. “Y-yeah.” He cursed his voice as it broke slightly and wondered if his _life_ was a Christmas movie. Nah, there’d be more elves.

                Bruce gently picked up the present and looked at the giant green bow Jack had wrapped around it. The thought of what was _in_ the box brought a blush to his face and he was very glad for the concealer make up he had on could mask it. This was a horrible awful idea and he hated himself a little bit inside. Not even the bit that taunted him this time.

                Because a box containing a black mug with yellow writing saying “World’s Greatest Detective” could be nothing but cheesy and didn’t deserve the look Bruce was giving it. Of course Bruce didn’t know the failure of a gift inside it so. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be there when Bruce finally found out when he opened it.

                His departure suddenly remembered Jack gulped the last of the cocoa before setting the mug back down on the counter. While he wanted to practically flee the house he’d never let Alfred’s work go to waste. Just as he was walking past Bruce to head towards the door and his car, the man looked up and grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?”

                Mind grinding to a halt at the look in those eyes he opened and closed his mouth like a fool. “I- I uh-” God those eyes _did things_ to him. His heart rate picked up and he horrifyingly wondered if everyone could hear how hard it was beating. Knowing Bats’ great hearing he wouldn’t be surprised if they did. No amount of makeup could hide his blush now.

                “If I may sir, dinner will be ready in less than an hour. Perhaps Mister Jack can join us?” Thank Father Christmas for Alfred changing the subject. Though now he’d have no chance of leaving any time soon. He looked over Bruce’s shoulder to see the knowing smile on the butler’s face. His blushed worsened because the old man could see right through him and it terrified him.

                He gave Bruce a smile, hoping that he didn’t look as much of an idiot as he felt. “Sure. Ah, I’ll just… go take off my coat since I’m staying for a bit.” Pointing behind him he turned on his heel and ducked his head down as he went back to the entryway. Hanging up his coat by the door he paused and leaned against the wall with his head. Tempted to just bang his head on said wall he merely let out a deep sigh.

                “What is wrong with me?” he muttered to himself.

                _Nothing short of **everything** , Hoody._

                He scowled deeply and growled at the voice. “Shut up. Shut upshutupshutup _shutup_!” His breaths were ragged and he knew he’d just worked himself into a state and had to calm himself down. “I won’t let you ruin this. It’s Christmas; don’t I deserve _one_ stress-less vacation? One evening where I’m not being _driven insane_?”

                _Oh Hoody! You say that like you’re not already!_

                “Jack?”

                Opening his eyes and moving from his position leaning against the wall he turned to see Bruce standing at the end of the hall. Even from this distance he could make out Bruce’s concerned frown. Smoothing his red dress shirt with his hands Jack attempted to pull himself together. He plastered a plain smile on his face, one that didn’t pull his scars too much.

                “So Brucie, let’s put your gift under the tree!” He paused before adding, “You _do_ have a tree don’t you?”

                Bruce let out a low grunt and motioned for him to follow. On the other side of the kitchen was a large living room. In the far corner was a Christmas tree. Though honestly Jack thought that was a generous description. It was barely six feet tall and had maybe half a dozen ornaments on it and one rope of pale yellow lights wrapped around it. The large crystal star perching atop the tree stood out like a sore thumb with its sheer beauty in contrast.

                “Err… kinda pathetic lookin’ thing ain’t it? I mean- not to be rude or nothing…” He was three seconds away from slapping himself and was cursing his mouth for speaking before thinking. Alfred however saved him from his fate of mortification by chipping in from the entryway to the kitchen.

                “That would be because I did not know Master Bruce even  _wanted_ a tree until four days ago.”

                Jack stared at Bruce for a long moment. Then he started giggling. “So the day _after_ you invited me for Christmas you inform poor Alfred you’ll be celebrating it? Should I be touched?”

                The billionaire just folded his arms across his broad chest and glared at the tree. When Jack’s giggling only increased in volume he huffed under his breath. Finally having enough he moved an arm to gesture at the pathetic tree.

                “It’s not that bad! It’s, it’s a tree. What are there rules for Christmas trees? I mean, it’s not like it has to be big in the first place, all that’s going under it is this little box anyway.” To prove his point he placed the gift Jack had brought under it. Indeed, there was nothing else under the tree and given the time, there would not be.

                The thought stopped Jack’s giggling and he sobered up. Gazing at the pathetic tree with the pathetic gift he’d brought Bruce just brought home the fact that neither of them had a family. He wondered if he'd ever had that before his life went to shit and he’d decided to make do by becoming a vigilante. Like Bruce had, before he'd lost it too soon. At least Bruce still had Alfred. Jack had no one, not even memories to visit.

                _Don’t say that, you’ll **always** have me! Hehehehehe~_

                Both of them stood there, staring at the last minute tree and gift and there was no other word for it, brooded. They must have been like that longer than they noticed, for it felt like only a moment before Alfred called out to them.

                “Dinner is ready Master Bruce, Mister Jack. If you’re both finished being depressing, come enjoy some holiday cheer, shall we?” Alfred motioned to the already set dinner table and raised an unimpressed white brow. Guilty he hadn’t helped set the table, Jack awkwardly sat down in one of the seats. Bruce sat at the head of the table naturally, and as he passed the butler he mumbled a quiet thank you.

                The food was the best he’d ever had in his life (or at least in his memory) and he envied the fact that Bruce ate like this most every day. The wave of bitterness he felt soured some of the food’s taste and it was followed by an even stronger wave of guilt for feeling that way in the first place. He always _felt so much_ whenever Bruce was involved, and it made him dizzy.

                After the meal was through, Jack insisted on helping clean. He ignored Alfred’s protests and it wasn’t long before the butler gave in and the two took care of the dishes and putting leftovers away. He didn’t see it, but Alfred compiled a take-away plate for him to take home while Jack was drying the last of the dishes.

                It hadn’t crossed his mind, but he saw what Bruce had been up to in the meantime when he returned to the living room. The man had hooked up the dvd player to his flat screen TV and had piled all the movies he owned onto the coffee table before it. He looked up when Jack entered and waved to the dvds.

                “I’m not sure if any are the ones you’d planned on watching in your apartment, but you can have a look to see if I have them.” Bruce then turned back to fiddling with the cables and Jack had to take slow breaths. He counted to ten in his head and tilted his head back to contain the surprised tears of happiness that formed in his eyes. Before anyone could notice his moment of weakness he rubbed his face gently and got to looking at the titles.

                They ended up watching the Hallmark channel as Bruce did not in fact own a single movie that Jack had intended to watch. Not even ones he’d ever heard of. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised as he didn’t think Bruce was the kind of man to sit around and watch movies.

                Somewhere into The Polar Express Jack drifted off from where he sat sprawled against the leather couch. He woke to someone gently nudging his shoulder and he almost cried out. Eyes wide and breathing labored he looked up in the darkness to peer into fathomless blue eyes.

                “It’s late and the storm hasn’t stopped. Your car is buried under at least two feet of snow, there’s no way you’ll make it to the gate let alone back to Gotham. Alfred’s prepared one of the guest rooms for you to use for the night if you’d like to go to bed.” Bruce told him his voice soft in the stillness of the night. Jack absently noticed that the TV was off.

                Bruce walked with him up the flight of stairs leading to the guest wing and bid him a silent good night. Jack wondered if he was still dreaming. As he entered the indicated guest room he knew he had to be. The room was huge and luxurious and felt like the home he’d never had. Pushing the thought aside he collapsed onto the king sized bed.

~~

                Bruce was woken from his slumber by a soft noise. Not able to immediately recognize or place where it was from, he was on high alert. Padding on bare feet he silently made his way out his bedroom and into the hallway. He followed the noise and as it got louder he could finally place what it was. It was a piano, specifically, the Wayne family piano in the ballroom.

                He was fairly sure Alfred didn’t play, at least not at, he checked the grandfather clock, 5 in the morning. Using his training he continued to creep closer to the piano and whoever was playing. Once he was at the entrance he could make out a shadowy form playing in the pitch black.

                The person was playing a higher and softer version of Carol of the Bells and seemed to be deep into the music. It took Bruce a moment to recognize the person as Jack. His mouth opened in silent awe as he watched Jack play the song, pouring his soul into the notes. Upon looking harder he noticed Jack wasn’t even looking at a music sheet, in fact his eyes weren’t open at all.

                Folding his arms and leaning his shoulder against the frame of the entryway, Bruce settled in to watch him play. The man’s pale fingers danced across the keys and the motions seemed to carry out into his whole body. Every note made the air vibrate with emotion and Bruce was nearly overwhelmed. He didn’t even notice his soft clapping when the song was over until Jack spun around in shock.

                His eyes were wide and he seemed frozen to the seat in front of the grand piano. Bruce walked further into the room and gave him a small smile to show he wasn’t in trouble. He gently caressed the top of the piano before he spoke, breaking the silence that had set in after the song ended.

                “No one has played on this piano since my mother died.” Bruce blinked back a tear as he continued to gaze at the black expanse of the instrument. Jack seemed to finally find his voice and softly apologized.

                “Sorry if I woke you. I just-” he seemed to lose his words and closed his mouth for a long moment. Then, bringing his hands back up to the keys he played a repeating four keyed tune and continued, “Playing always calms me down. Especially after nightmares… I didn’t even know you had one until I stumbled on it after I woke up and well. I wasn’t thinking I just started to play. It’s a very beautiful piano.”

                Bruce looked at Jack absently playing the tune and how his hands seemed made for the piano. His nimble fingers moved across the keys like it was completely effortless. He tilted his head and wondered.

                “Where you taught to play when you were younger?”

                The man laughed harshly and brought his other hand into the tune, starting to play the piano opening for O Come, O Come Emmanuel. He closed his eyes once more and seemed to focus completely on playing. Once he was further into the song he answered Bruce’s question.

                “No idea. Like a lot of things in my head, the muscle memory is just...there. Maybe high school requirement? You have to learn how to play  _something_  right? My hands look like piano hands. Playing brings such peace to my mind, so I do it.”

                As he finished with the song he left his fingers on the keys and just looked down at them. “Sometimes I wonder if I could have made a life out of it… If I did, and forgot it...” he admitted softly, barely louder than a breath.

                Sensing the heavy moment Bruce stayed silent for a long time. When the air felt less suffocating, he smirked and looked at Jack from the corner of his eyes. “Can you play The Last Waltz?” Jack looked up at him and after a moment gave him a smile. The man cracked his knuckles and with a flourish brought his hands down to start playing. The two stayed there listening and playing until Alfred walked in a few hours later.

                “Master Bruce, what a surprise to see you up and about, and before noon as well. Mister Jack, that was marvelous playing, do please continue.” Alfred smiled at their guest and waved a hand towards the piano. “Do you par chance know how to play Winter Wonderland?”

                Giving him a sheepish smile, Jack returned to the keys and started playing the requested song. It was at that moment that Bruce realized he was still wearing nothing but his sleeping pants. Lowering his head to hide the faint blush rising to his cheeks he made an excuse to go change. He heard Alfred chuckle behind him.

                “I left a little gift for you Master Bruce, it’s on your dresser, do put it on, sir?”

~~

                Once Jack had finished playing Alfred’s request he turned in his seat to see the butler struggle to keep in a bout of laughter. Tilting his head in confusion he tried to get the man’s attention.

                “What’s so funny Alfred? Surely my rendition of Winter Wonderland wasn’t _that_ bad.”

                Alfred seemed to just notice him and waved a white gloved hand. “Oh, no it had nothing to do with your playing Jack. It was very lovely. Just pardon an old man, he has to find entertainment wherever he can get it.”

                Deeply confused but not sure how to ask further, Jack turned back to the piano. He started playing the ending song from The Polar Express they’d watched the night before from memory. Only part way through his fingers slipped on the keys when he heard a loud grumble behind him. Looking over his shoulder his eyes widened in surprise when he took in the sight.

                Bruce was standing there positively _glaring murder_ at Alfred. And Jack couldn’t blame him. For over the man’s chest was the most horrid looking sweater Jack had ever seen. It looked itchy and was a shade of green that rivaled Jack’s hair. There was also the red letters sewn into the pattern spelling NOEL on one side and a red and white wrapped present on the other.

                “Really, Alfred? Really.”

                The butler let out a mirthful laugh behind a closed fist. Jack knew he wanted to laugh harder than that, but was holding himself back. _He_ however had no such restrictions, so he let out a loud clap of laughter before it delved into wheezing chuckles. He had to lean on the piano and use one arm to clutch his stomach.

                “It’s what happens when one goes last minute shopping sir; it was either that sweater or fruit cake. Should I have gotten the fruit cake?” Alfred asked with an innocent expression. Bruce’s glare only hardened before he growled softly and turned around.

                “Merry Christmas sir!” the butler shouted at his retreating form. Jack barely heard Bruce’s begrudging repeat of the statement over his still hysterical laughter.

                “Oh… oh… I haven’t laughed that hard in a _long_ time. Thank you Alfred, for gifting that wonderful moment.” Jack wiped his eyes to clear away the tears brought by his intense laughter. He received a tender smile in return before the elderly man headed back towards the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

                His mood brightened considerably, Jack played a happier and faster rendition of the first song he’d been caught playing; Carol of the Bells. Nodding along with his playing he didn’t even feel pain when he felt himself smiling. “Merry Christmas indeed.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you’d like to hear what all Jack played, here they are in order:
> 
> Carol of the Bells by George Winston ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1JYrOMK1aDA )  
> O Come, O Come Emmanuel ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WIbBdmn9uA8 )  
> The Last Waltz ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z9SG8C6h2Yo )  
> Winter Wonderland ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GuUoUYOovXU )  
> Believe ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iyBiac-yflo )  
> Carol of the Bells ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V1Tr1qCHwq4 )


End file.
